


The 100th Reaping

by tinasnewt



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: After Mockingjay, Angst, F/M, Katniss reaping, Multi, Reaping, Rye Mellark - Freeform, Sad, Willow Mellark - Freeform, everlark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 07:24:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11458827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinasnewt/pseuds/tinasnewt
Summary: keep in mind I was thirteen when I wrote this a long time agoSONG OF THE IMAGINE - THE MOCKINGJAY BY JAMES NEWTON HOWARD (will be told when to turn on song)In this imagine, after the 75th Quarter Quell President Snow granted a pardon on Katniss, Peeta, Johanna, Enobaria, Beetee, and Finnick for their actions in the Games after seizing them all back from and obliterating District 13. However, he did not do this out of kindness. He did it out of vengeance, for he then forced Katniss and Peeta to get married. They knew there was danger in disobeying, but didn't mind following this particular order. Katniss had found the love for Peeta that he had had for her. They managed. But, they knew the clock was ticking, just like the clock arena. President Snow had given them ten years to produce a child. If they failed, or refused to comply, Peeta's brother would be the first to go. Then his second brother. Then Prim. But that didn't keep them from not trying. Until one day, eight years later, Katniss discovered she was pregnant.It only took a day for the president to find out.





	The 100th Reaping

{in Willow Mellark's POV}

The dress my mother has laid out for me this year is similar to the ones I've worn to the past five Reapings. A light color, frilly, and very innocent looking. Enough to make my seventeen year old self look twelve again. Although, that isn't hard since I have the figure of a twelve year old. If you don't count my height of 5'6. Mother slips the yellow dress on and untangles my hair from under the dress. Her finger work slowly through it, as if she's trying to buy time. This year she decides to put it in a dutch braid, unlike last year when they had me prancing around in a plain white dress (with frills, of course), and my hair curled to perfection. When I look in the mirror, I can see the sadness she tries oh so hard to hide clearly. Whenever she dresses me for an event, she gets the same look. As if I'm growing up too quickly. But really, the problem is I'm growing up too slowly. As soon as I turn 19 I'm free from the Capitol's grip on my life.

But when my dad walks in, it's a whole new show. She walks out quickly, wiping her eyes. He turns towards her, but decides to do what's best and leave her to prepare herself for the twenty fifth reaping she's had to endure mentoring for. Our eyes catch just for a moment, and it's as if I'm staring into my own eyes. That's the only facial feature him and I share. Everything else is a straight copy from my mother. Suddenly, I'm pulled into a big hug and I feel my shoulder get wet with tears.

"Dad," I say, but he hugs me harder. "It's okay. I've gone through five Reapings already. I'm not going to get picked this year."

"No, Willow, you don't understand. This is the 100th Hunger Games," he says, and the blue orbs that resemble mine are red and dripping out tears, "they're not going easy. You want to know what the card said?" he takes a deep breath, "'This year, to reinstate the rules of the 74th Hunger Games, two tributes may win. However, they may not be related and have to be from the same District. And, to reinstate another very popular games, 4 tributes from each district will be put in the arena.' Willow, they're going to put you and Rye into the Hunger Games."

With that, I drop to the floor. 

\--------------------------------------

The march to the Justice Building is solemn. My dress stands out in the crowd, as most people are dressed with bland whites and browns. I watch as my parents ascend to the stage, standing next to a sober Haymitch Abernathy, a rare sight for him. Their hands are clutched together, as always. As if asking, "Please, don't let it be them." But we already know. President Snow is launching an attack on us. Since his past birthday was his hundredth, we know. This is his birthday present. Forcing my parents to watch their children die, or watching them end up being the last two in the arena and having to kill each other.

Effie Trinket walks out on stage. She doesn't look a day over 30. The blue dress she wears makes her look even younger. For some reason, the color blue makes everyone appear younger to me. It is surprising, considering she's over fifty years old now. Effie readjusts her wig before beginning to speak.

"Welcome," she says, smiling with fake enthusiasm in her voice, "to the reaping of the 100th Hunger Games. Today I will be pulling four names, as that is what our very own President Snow has instructed me to do."

Before that, the stupid video we watch every year turns on. "War, terrible war," President Snow's voice narrates, echoing in the bright sunlight. Closing my eyes, I try to block out everything the snakelike man says. My best friend, Clarissa Meyer grasps my hand. I don't hold hers back.

{turn on song, if you'd like to} 

 

"Now, for the first girl," Effie announces after the video ends. Her gloved hand reaches into the bowl. She moves, putting the slip with one unlucky girl's name on the pedestal.

She reaches into the boy's bowl, and announces the two names to save time.

"The first set of tributes for the fourth quarter quell are Joanne Mead and Rick Matson!"

The breath I've been holding exits my lips. But then, as she goes for the second round of tributes, she pauses for just a moment. Her big dress conceals it, but I can see her two left fingers crossed. Hoping for it not to be me or my brother.

She slowly walks the slip back to the pedestal. Then for the boys. I look at my mother for a split second, and she's grasping my father's arm so tightly the circulation has probably been cut off for minutes.

As Effie opens the two slips, I look for any signs of emotion. She shows none. "The next tributes for the 100th Hunger Games are... Willow Mellark and... Rye Mellark," her voice drops at my brothers name. She looks towards my parents, sadness in her eyes/

My mother's screams can be heard all the way in the Capitol. 

I watch as she drops to the ground. Her crying echoes throughout the whole district, making the birds flutter around to see what all the commotion is as dad just stands still, in shock. Then it's as if he got hit in the head with something as he drops down next to my mom, who's screaming and crying have to be deafening both him and Haymitch. He says something inaudible, too quiet to hear. "Look at me," he says a bit louder, grabbing my her face and bringing it towards him. Even if he whispered it we'd hear him. It is dead silent. "Katniss, we survived not only one, but two Hunger Games. We can survive this as well," he says quietly, and my mother, Katniss, the girl who was on fire, looks down. 

"Snow did this, he knew this was the only way to stop the rebellion," she sobs. Her hands raise to her ears "He did this to us, Peeta, he did this to us to punish us for everything we did 25 years ago!" my mother snarls, anger boiling deep inside her, the anger she's held in for the past 42 years.

All eyes are either on me, her, or Rye. Rye. I have to get to him. He's only thirteen years old, and as sweet as a cherry pie. How will he survive these Games? How will we survive?

Someone nudges me forward, and as I walk to the stage, I avert my gaze from everyone. All eyes move from Rye and my mother to me as I take the stage, standing next to Joanne. Effie waits for Rye, who takes a painstakingly long time to climb just one step. 

Effie says some words but I don't hear her. All I know is soon mine, Rye, dad, and mom's arms are all grabbed by peacekeepers and dragged off the stage. The other tributes are walked slowly off with Effie, and soon the big doors close and we are concealed in darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this when I was a little tyke so don't judge it too harshly


End file.
